


Asters and Nettles

by Starts_with_a_D



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Grimm Fairy Tales - Freeform, Post-Reichenbach, Six Swans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 17:42:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8410651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starts_with_a_D/pseuds/Starts_with_a_D
Summary: There are questions, questions that have been left unanswered. Mycroft attempts to answer one of these in an interesting manner.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy this story! Set before S3.

“You didn’t have to come to the flat, you could’ve just kidnapped me again if you wanted to talk.”

Mycroft Holmes stopped at the threshold, eyeing the back of John Watson’s head. He weighed the bitter words in his mind, determining a response in less than two seconds.

“I quite like my nose the way it is,” he responded pointedly. John didn’t answer, just sipped his tea. The observer stepped into the room.

“And I don’t really want to talk,” Mycroft continued, taking a seat. “I owe Mrs. Hudson a favor, and she called it in. Why she thought  _ I _ should be the one to talk you out of your misery, I’m not sure I shall ever know.” The part about Mrs. Hudson was a lie, and Mycroft thought that John probably knew it. But it wouldn’t do for John to know that he had promised Sherlock to look after his ex-flatmate when Sherlock shouldn’t have even known he was going to ‘die.'

The older man turned and eyed the doctor in the armchair with a keen gaze. “Then again, maybe she was right. I had already noticed a slight difference in your behavior, and I also believe I know the reason.”

John pursed his lips angrily. “Been talking to my therapist again?”

“Not quite, though her notes are enlightening, if only about her own self,” Mycroft drawled contemptuously. “Never mind my sources: you have a question for me.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” John snorted, but Mycroft cut him off.

“Don’t be silly, Dr. Watson. You’ve been thinking about it, haven’t you, really properly thinking about it for the first time in weeks. So tell me what hasn’t added up.”

The doctor turned dark eyes on Mycroft, but no punches were forthcoming. He seemed to weigh the other man carefully, determining whether revealing himself would be worth it, whether his desire to know the truth could overcome his anger and grief.

Mycroft knew any answer could only cause him more pain, but it would be better for him to be asked the question, rather than the bumbling detective, or worse, Miss Hooper.

“I just don’t understand why he did it,” John whispered suddenly, his eyes dropping to the ground, the fight inside of him ending dismally. “Why he jumped. Don’t say it was because everyone thought he was a fraud, because he didn’t care what other people thought. He was real and we both know it. So why did he kill himself?”

It took a long time for Mycroft to respond, so long that John thought he must be ignoring the question and looked over at him. The British Government was looking out of the window with his usual stoic expression. There was a little line between his eyebrows.

Slowly, he turned to face John again. “Dr. Watson, do you know the story of the six swans?”

John blinked, his brain stalling a little at the apparent change in subject. “What?”

“It’s a Grimms’ fairytale. Six brothers were turned into swans, and in order to break the spell their sister has to remain silent for six years, never speaking, never laughing. She must also sew six shirts from asters, or nettles, depending on the version.”

“What’s this got to do with anything?” John sighed, starting to turn away.

“I’m not done yet,” Mycroft said, and the little bite was the closest John had ever heard him come to snapping. “The girl loved her brothers, so she agreed. While sewing the shirts, she was found by a king and he fell in love with her, despite the rumors that she was a witch. When the girl had a child, the king’s mother, possessed by fear and jealousy, took the child away and hid it, then accused her daughter-in-law of cannibalism. The girl never spoke a word in her own defense, because to do so would have been to break the spell. The accusations became so heated that the king was forced to put her on trial and condemn her to be burned at the stake. Even in her extremity, on the eve of her execution, the girl continued to hold her peace and sew the shirts.”

Mycroft stood abruptly, startling John, who gasped out of his confused staring. “That girl was willing to die for her brothers, and she was willing to die even when it meant that her name would be besmirched forever. She would have sacrificed herself for them, holding on to her hope that she could still save them.”

His work done, Mycroft moved to the door, slowly and precisely, as was his way. John was left sitting on the couch, what Mycroft had been trying to say only just dawning on him.

“Wait!” he cried, jumping to his feet. “The sister---the sister, in the story . . . she survived! She didn’t die, she was able to save her brothers and live also!”

Mycroft hesitated in indecision, but only for a second. Without turning around, he stated calmly, “The comparison is imperfect, of course.”

And John Watson was once again alone.

* * *

**“The girl firmly resolved to redeem her brothers, even if it should cost her her life.” -Brothers Grimm**

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on FF.net. Thank you for reading!


End file.
